


Books and their Covers

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His library job is boring in all kinds of ways. But Stiles just didn't expect Derek to liven it up quite like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Books and their Covers

**Author's Note:**

> I have a thing where Stiles gets a summer job as a librarian. I don't know either. I also wrote this while writing a very boring essay so I hope there's no references to media education and globalisation lurking.

It was a slow, slow evening. The library stayed open for hours beyond reasonable and, with his shiny title as the newest employee in the library system, he was the one left to man the desk in case anyone felt the desperate need for the latest crime bestseller. Or the nearest the library had.  
Stiles made bets with himself about the number of people he'd see on an evening shift and so far he was winning. He'd bet himself a late night doughnut/muffin/whatever pastry goodness was left that he would see no one past 8 o'clock and so far... Zilch. Zero. Zip. No people needed to urgently look up the dictionary. No people at all. And luckily he only had half an hour to go.

He was so bored. Stiles was even bored with the internet. And he could tell you that was not a common occurrence. Especially since werewolves. But he'd completed all the tasks he'd been assigned (which had boiled down to tidy these shelves and these shelves and these shelves) and he'd learned exactly how far the spinny desk chair from the catalogue computer would skid on the carpet. He was contemplating getting his phone out and texting under the desk when the door slid open.

Stiles didn't even regret the loss of pastry goodness (he should stay in shape for lacrosse summer training and werewolf shenanigans running for his life after all) and nearly fell off his stool being a good library assistant. He was flailing when an arm reached over the counter and held him steady.

It was Derek. Derek Fucking Vanishing Act Hale.

"Hello, asshole." Stiles winced as the words slipped past his lips. Derek frowned – nothing new there – but he didn’t say anything. Instead he used the hand pinioning Stiles’s arm to pull Stiles forward over the expanse of the desk, 

Stiles hadn’t seen Derek in the flesh for weeks. And he wouldn’t be complaining if it wasn’t for the fact that Derek had made a few starring appearances in Stiles’s dreams – night and day – and Stiles kinda craved Derek. Just a little bit. He wanted to see the guy and – just his luck – the guy had disappeared for the summer. Until now, when he’d shown up at Stiles’s admittedly cushy summer job and dragged him across the counter and, well, kissed him.

It wasn’t much of a kiss. It was more of a smash of mouths. There might even have been teeth involved (mainly on Stiles’s part to his eternal shame). There was also a real sense of disbelief and Stiles kept his eyes open as Derek Fucking Hale kissed him.

Derek made a face as he pulled back. Now, Stiles had spent a lot of time studying Derek and his facial expressions. Or lack thereof. For science. But Stiles had no idea what to make of this one. Also, there was the incipient freak out over the fact Derek had kissed him that was taking up a lot of his brain capacity. Especially since Derek could smell the whole inappropriate half-stiffy Stiles was now sporting.

Derek had kissed him – even though it hadn’t been the _best_ kiss. Not that Stiles had a whole lot to compare it to, but he was pretty sure his mouth wasn’t supposed to feel bruised in a bad way - and now Derek wasn't saying anything at all. Stiles was usually the one who filled the silences but there was nothing he could think of saying. In fact, he was pretty sure his mouth was just hanging open. Derek's eyes flicked down to his mouth and then there was more kissing.

This time, Derek took his time, approached the whole kissing thing with a little more finesse. This was no quick press of mouth. This was lips teasing and parting and moist and fuck it was good. Stiles only became aware of exactly how good when he knocked his ribs against the desk. His lips were slick against Derek’s; Derek’s tongue flicked against his teeth, mouth moving in tiny increments as he kissed the hell out of Stiles. Stiles felt the bottom of his stomach drop out as he grabbed onto Derek to stop him ever going anywhere else. Life might be awkward with Derek Hale attached to his mouth, but Stiles could live with that if he got to keep kissing like this.

Derek still maintained the most unnatural silence when he slowly pulled back. Then he huffed out a sigh. Stiles knew it was a sigh because Derek's shoulders rose and fell, his lips pursed and his chest expanded. But there was no sound behind it.

"Are you...?" Stiles was tempted to poke at Derek's (depressingly perfect) face. "You can't speak, right?"

Derek shrugged and then brought his face close again. Stiles ducked back. “There will be no more kissing until I know why. And you can’t talk. So that’s not going to work. And where are you going?” Stiles’s could feel his throat closing up as Derek walked to the edge of the counter, pushing his way through the door that kept patrons decidedly on the other side of the desk, thank you kindly. Derek with his bad boy, leather wearing, I’m the Alpha attitude ignored rules like that on a regular basis, of course. Which meant he was striding towards Stiles ready to grab him again. “There’s this definition of stupidity, you know. Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

Stiles attempted to get his hand in between Derek’s mouth and his but he didn’t quite manage and Derek was kissing him again. He should make noises about how creepy and wrong it was to be kissed without asking permission and all that. Consent was not just an ignorable idea because someone was a werewolf. Stiles would totally get on telling Derek that – after he finished wrapping his arms around his neck and shameless rubbing against his abs. Derek had _good_ abs. Great ones.

Stiles’s mouth was starting to feel puffy in the best way now when Derek suddenly disengaged and dropped to his knees. Stiles had a moment of wondering what was going to happen next when the door swished open again. Mr Rosenberg strolled in, his cane tapping across the doorway before thudding into the softer carpet of the library.

“Hey Mr R. Anything I can help you with?” Stiles leaned over the counter, trying to look completely innocent and not like he had been kissed within an inch of his life by the very attractive and more silent than usual werewolf who was currently curled up under the counter hiding.

The old man dropped a couple of books on the counter, looked over his bifocals and harrumphed. Stiles smiled weakly. “I’m good, Stilinski.”

Stiles nodded, grabbing the wand and scanning the books back in as Mr Rosenberg made his way to the paperback shelves. 

Now he had a real problem. Derek didn’t seem inclined to move and Stiles knew Mr Rosenberg took absolutely hours to choose his books. And Stiles could feel the heat of Derek’s breath against his hip. He tried to shift to the side but Derek’s hands came up and held Stiles firmly in place. Out of all options, Stiles leaned over the counter and started clicking about on the computer. He’d tried to keep supernatural nonsense out of his work life (because that worked so well with school. Anyway) and he hadn’t really tested the boundaries of the library firewalls. On the other hand, Derek breathing on his crotch probably constituted an emergency. 

Stiles smiled anytime Mr Rosenberg looked his way and otherwise industriously pulled up sites that might give him some clues as to what was wrong with Derek. It turned out that googling “horny werewolf silence” really did set off all the firewall warnings. 

Stiles was lost in his browsing of a promising forum when he felt Derek move at his feet. Mr Rosenberg was apparently lost in contemplation of a blurb when Stiles felt Derek’s hands move on his hips. He glanced down, trying to break free and glaring. On the other hand, his cock wasn’t getting the message judging by the eager jump it gave when Derek’s hands skimmed across the front of his pants. Derek looked weirdly vulnerable on his knees, begging Stiles with puppy dog eyes to rival Scott’s. Or Isaac’s. Maybe not. No one could out puppy dog Isaac, that manipulative shit.

Derek’s mouth formed a word, exaggerated and slow, but Stiles had no hope of understanding. He shook his head before jerking his eyes upwards and smiling at Mr Rosenberg again. The smile fixed on his face as he felt Derek’s hands drifting to his belt buckle. He risked a glance down. Derek was mouthing something else now. It looked a lot like please.

When Mr Rosenberg pushed the squeak old carousel of books that utterly drove Stiles crazy around, Derek unbuckled Stiles’s belt. He paused when Mr Rosenberg stopped and Stiles stood stock still. His flagging cock was up to full mast again, pushing uncomfortably against his zipper. He was going to die. Derek was going to kill him for this. He was so going to get fired. Then his dad would kill him. This was just not going to end well for him. The next squeak of the carousel disguised the noise of Stiles’s zip being drawn down, tantalisingly slowly. Stiles planted his hands on the counter, holding on for dear life as Derek pulled out his cock and licked the tip. Stiles had not expected that. Nope. That was the only excuse he gave for the very loud gasp he let out.

Mr Rosenberg shot him another suspicious glance. “Facebook,” Stiles replied. “One of my friend’s relationship status just changed in a really unexpected way.” Stiles could feel his cheeks heating up, feel himself start to sweat. Derek seemed to be smiling around his cock now. At least someone was finding this funny. Mr Roseberg went back to turning the screeching evil carousel around and around, the noise like werewolf claws on a chalk board. Stiles found he was paying less and less attention as Derek gave up all excuse of pretence and sucked Stiles’s cock into his mouth as far as he could take it. 

Mr Rosenberg, the books, the whole damn library wavered in his vision as Derek worked his cock. Even Stiles could tell Derek was mostly hesitant, taking his time, not entirely sure about what he was doing. But Stiles’s world was narrowing down to hot, wet, tight and the occasional brush of teeth. Another risky glance down and he could see Derek’s eyelashes spread like half circles over his cheekbones. Stiles had to bring one of his hands up off the counter and cover his mouth to stop the groan he wanted to make slipping out. It only got worse when he became aware of Derek shifting, every move, every brush of cloth echoing around the near silent library. Stiles wished urgently that the library played quiet musak for all that it would drive him insane. He needed something to cover up the soft, wet slurping.

He kept his eyes fixed on the clock at the other end of the library. There was no way he could even dare look down at Derek. Because there was a strong possibility that Derek was jerking himself off under the counter as he took even more of Stiles’s cock into his mouth. And all that was going to lead to was noise and coming and Stiles’s potential collapse to the floor. His legs were pretty jelly already and his iron grip on the counter was all that he had to hold him up.

Which was why Mr Rosenberg was able to sneak up on him.

“Hi-I,” Stiles stuttered out, taking the pile of books. Derek stopped moving under the counter, the head of Stiles’s cock just held in his mouth. It was torture – sweet and delicious, but torture none the less. “Did you find everything you were looking for?” To his own ears, Stiles sounded high-pitched and wrecked and by the pinched, I’ve been sucking on a lemon, look on Mr Rosenberg’s face, Stiles sounded weird too.

But thankfully Mr Rosenberg just slid his library card over the counter, let Stiles scan it and stamp his books, and left. He took his time over it, pausing to look at posters stuck to the notice board beside the door as Stiles’s eyes flickered desperately between him and the clock and his computer screen. Don’t look down, he chanted to himself, don’t-

The minute the door whooshed shut behind Mr Rosenberg, Stiles’s eyes were drawn straight down to see Derek watching him, a high red flush on his cheek. Stiles could see Derek stroking himself, hard and noisy now there was no one else in the library. “Bet you enjoyed that. Now. I should research and find a cure and you should stop and we should talk about boundaries because sucking my cock is a boundary I wasn’t aware we had the possibility of crossing.”

Derek didn’t move. Well, he did. His hand stroked more urgently on his cock and he used his free hand on Stiles’s hip to move Stiles, force him to shallowly fuck into Derek’s mouth. Abruptly Stiles gave in. He was dead meat anyway. He lowered his hand to Derek’s head, tangled his fingers in Derek’s ridiculously soft hair and gave three shallow thrusts before coming.

Belatedly he realised he probably should have warned Derek. That was what the porn etiquette guide said, right? He shouldn’t be quite so pleased to see Derek’s red mouth spattered with his come, the gleam of it on Derek’s cheeks, one stray drop clinging to an eyelash. Derek didn’t seem to mind, letting out a soft moan and stiffening as he came into his own palm. Stiles stumbled back into one of the high stools behind the desk, propping himself on it to tuck himself away. His hands shook so much it took longer than it should. Then Derek was there, his mouth pressed against Stiles’s again, folding his hand over Stiles’s to stop him shaking.

“Thank you,” Derek said.

Stiles knew his mouth was open – hanging open, catching flies – as Derek grabbed a tissue from the librarian’s station and wiped his face. Stiles stared in surprise as Derek finished his clean-up, looked around for the trashcan and then, oh glory, stuck the tissue in the pocket of his leather jacket.

“You-“ The word was more of a wheeze than anything resembling a sound a human should make. Stiles coughed. “You said thank you. And – hey – you can speak. How can you speak?”

Derek shoved his hands in his pockets, the eternal sign of I don’t want to talk about it because I’m the Alpha now. Then just as quickly he brought his hands out again. “It was a spell, Stiles.”

“And to break it, you had to give innocent teenage virgin library assistants blow jobs?” Stiles finished settling his clothes into place during the epic silence that followed that remark.

He looked up to see Derek looking – guilty? At least that’s what he thought that eyebrow pattern signified. “I should have-“ Derek ran his hands through his hair. “True love’s kiss.”

“Huh?” Stiles started drawing links and he wasn’t entirely sure that this was like the time he was convinced it was trolls when it was really just a family of racoons.

“I- You-“ Derek shuffled his feet and then came closer – into ripping throat out with teeth territory. “Coffee. We should get coffee. Or dinner. Or-“

“You could just tell me what it is. We don’t need food or drink to- Oh. Shit. Like a date?” Stiles watched as Derek’s face shifted through a number of complicated emotions (he would make jokes about constipation but Derek was so fucking gorgeous that even that would look beautiful on him) before setting on what Stiles would term hope. “Because you love me?”

Derek nodded, looking relieved when Stiles got it and he didn’t actually have to say it. “Otherwise the spell wouldn’t have broken. Turned out it needed more than just a kiss though.”

“Okay then.” Stiles wondered how he had got here and whether he could blame Scott for this. But he had a sinking feeling that this was all his own doing. And now he had the Alpha werewolf looking at him like he basically held his heart in his hands and was able to crush it. Which, Stiles guessed, he kinda could.

The clock chimed the hour and Stiles turned away to start switching everything off. He managed to tidy the chairs, turn off the computers, get the shutters down all without looking too much at Derek, who leaned against the counter where he had…blown Stiles. Fuck. That had happened. Stiles was going to have problems now because just looking at the counter made him want to ask for repeat after repeat performances. And more. He wanted hella more.

“Yes.” Stiles checked around one more time before heading back to Derek. 

“Yes?” Derek had straightened up when Stiles spoke, another one of those heartbreakingly hopeful looks in his eyes.

“To dating. To you. To, well, us.” Stiles tried to control it but his hand waved around gesturing between them. Derek actually smiled. “And just as well I can read your non-verbal clues because, dude, you really need to brush up on mine. Just in case.”

Derek pressed him back against the counter and kissed him again. Stiles could taste his lingering come and his cock twitched against his zipper again. “I’m going to need to spend a lot of time keeping you silent then,” he said, when he finally pulled away, looking a little dazed himself.

Stiles was okay with that. All of that.


End file.
